


Time and Again

by agentmoppet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Catharsis via Communication, Epistolary, Letters, M/M, Slow Burn, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 04:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14253234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmoppet/pseuds/agentmoppet
Summary: Draco Malfoy leaves for France. Harry follows him.Told via a series of letters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm kind of just writing this for me, and I won't be offended at all if people backspace out of it because it's a WIP. I don't know when or how often I'll be able to update this. I do intend to finish it, but it may take a very long time. 
> 
> I'll try to close each chapter in a way that is satisfying rather than being a cliffhanger, but, again, this one is for me. It's just something I want to work on in bits and pieces when I'm struggling to find inspiration for other projects. If you do read it, hope you enjoy :)

Potter.

I don’t know how to say this to you, but I’m leaving England in the morning. I’m fully aware that this letter is unsigned and without a seal, and so you may well wonder how you are to know who I am and why you should care. The answers to both of those questions, respectively, are: you aren’t to know, and you don’t care. Simply presume that I am one of your many fans; it is accurate enough, and Lord knows you have enough of them to ensure me some anonymity.

I’m writing this after admittedly one too many gin and tonics, which always leads me to become both more melancholy than usual and more honest—a terrible combination when it comes to you.

England has become a cage for me. I find myself constantly searching for a way to break free of the bars that draw closer inward with each passing day, but I’ve long since passed the point where I can pretend there is any way clear of this. The only solution that remains for me is to leave. My mother tells me France is lovely this time of year.

If anything could make me stay here, in England, it would be you. Merlin knows how or when that happened, but I know it to be true, just as much as I know our friendship would never happen. It’s been years since I last saw you in person, but the papers tell me enough. Is it strange that I feel happy for you? To see how much you’ve accomplished?

I wish I’d had the bravery to talk to you when it would have made the most difference, but it’s been too long now. I’ve burned too many bridges, and life isn’t so easily turned around. However, although it makes no difference to my life anymore, I want you to know how thankful I am for everything you have ever done for me—for all of us. Particularly as I never deserved any of it.

It has been a privilege to know you, Potter. In whatever sense that may mean. I wish you the very best in your life. It is a shame we were never friends, but some things aren’t meant to be.

Yours.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione,

I’m going to France. Does the wizard district use Galleons there or do I need to change over currency?

Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Harry,

It’s three o’clock in the morning. Are you drunk?

Hermione

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione,

No, I’m not drunk. I just got a really weird letter from Draco Malfoy. Stupid git thinks he’s being anonymous, but I’d know his ridiculous handwriting anywhere. Plus no one else talks like that. Galleons or not? Do you think I need to pack a coat? Is it cold there this time of year?

Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Harry… Can I Floo over?

 

* * *

 

 

Sure.

  

o~O~o

 

Malfoy,

I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but I know it’s you. Where are you staying in France? I’ve just arrived.

Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Potter,

What the ever-loving fuck? What makes you think I’d want to see you?

D.M

 

* * *

 

 

Malfoy,

You do remember sending me that letter last week, right before you left, don’t you? I know you said you’d had too many G&Ts, but your handwriting was far too legible for you to be that pissed. Just give me your address so we can talk. I know we don’t have a great track record, but never say never.

Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Potter,

I’m not entirely sure what to say. I don’t recall writing you a letter, though the amount of torn up parchment I woke up to that morning is beginning to make an awful amount of sense. What did I say?

And no, we don’t have a great track record, and I think setting out to change that now would be what classifies as a fool’s errand. I’ll just say ‘never’ for both of us, shall I?

D.M

 

* * *

 

 

Malfoy,

You told me you were madly in love with me and insisted I meet you in France for a torrid affair.

Seriously, Malfoy. Do we have to keep wasting time like this? I’ll tell you what you said when you agree to meet me. All this writing is making my hand sore.

Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Potter,

Is that the excuse you’re using for this terrible handwriting? I’ve known you since you were eleven; you needn’t bother.

Fine. Meet me tomorrow at the café with the blue door just north of the Musée du Parfum. Look for the black kitten sunning itself; each morning at precisely ten, it takes over the entire front window. It’s quite a sight.

D.M

P.S. I recommend the eclairs.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione,

I think he’s messing with me. He sent me to this Muggle café with a cat in the window. He said he’d meet me there, but I waited for hours and he never showed. What do I do?

Harry

P.S. Why did he tell me about the cat??

 

* * *

 

 

Oh, Harry, I’m sorry. Maybe you should just come home? It’s not like you and Malfoy were ever friends. Honestly, I’m not sure why you’re surprised that he’s stringing you along. Why are you even bothering? You have enough on your plate…

Love, Hermione

P.S. I don’t know why he would tell you about a cat. Is it code??

 

* * *

 

 

Ron,

Hermione’s telling me to come home because Malfoy’s being a git. What do I do?

Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Mate… The answer’s in the question.

Ron

P.S. Are you sure you’re not high? George didn’t use you for a tester or something did he? I asked him, but I dunno… you’re running around France after _Malfoy._

 

* * *

 

 

Malfoy,

What are you playing at? I went to that stupid café and you never showed. Why won’t you just meet me?

Harry.

 

* * *

 

 

Potter,

Did you know that my mother used to take me there when I was a boy? It was a treat when Father was running errands halfway across the continent, searching for the remains of the Dark Lord. Of course, I didn’t know that until I was much older.

Did you try the eclairs? I distinctly remember the first time I ate one. It was rich and slightly melted, and the tabby cat was stretched out beside me in a sunbeam so warm and cozy I felt like that moment must be what Heaven felt like. An eternity filled with morning sunshine, cats, and eclairs.

I suppose that tabby is the black kitten’s mother. Perhaps. I didn’t want to ask.

I went there every day this week, but I couldn’t recapture that moment. The sun was warm, but I couldn’t feel it on my skin, and when I tried to pat the kitten, it hissed at me. I don’t blame it; my hands were very cold.

Would you like to know where I went next?

D.M

 

* * *

 

 

Luna,

I followed Draco Malfoy to France—long story—and he’s acting really weird. He sent me to this café he used to go to as a child, but he wouldn’t meet me there. And then he told me some story about growing up. It was a sad story.

I think he’s about to send me somewhere else… he probably won’t be there either…

Am I an idiot if I go?  

Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Harry,

This sounds like a treasure hunt! Is there a prize?

(Of course you should go. Childhood leaves a mark on us all in the most personal of ways—if someone shares that with you, it is an honour.)

Will you send me some perfume?

Love, Luna

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Luna,

I’ll send you the best. You’re wearing a lot of yellow at the moment, aren’t you? I’ll ask the assistant what suits a yellow outfit.

Love, Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Dearest Harry,

Can’t wait! I’m wearing sunshine yellow with lilac trim.

Tell me how your treasure hunt goes.

Love, Luna

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione,

I’ve decided to stay a bit longer. Possibly a lot longer. I’ll talk to you soon.

Harry

P.S. Can you tell Ron I’m not high?

 

* * *

 

 

Malfoy,

I went back to the café and tried the eclairs. You’re right—they’re to die for.

I asked about the old tabby cat. The owners were delighted that someone remembered her. Her name was Pattenrond, and she was indeed the mother of Noirot. Pattenrond never liked guests, apparently. She’d always leave when someone came too close, so she must have loved you if she stayed asleep while you sat with her.

I never had a cat, growing up. But my neighbour, Mrs Figg, had several. I used to hate going to her house, though I found out later that she was a Squib and the only person I had growing up who actually cared for me. Funny how life is, sometimes.

Where am I going next?

Harry


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your lovely comments! And special thanks to hootiepatootie for looking into Noirot (so cute!!!) And Hino_Hatari for giving me the inspiration for the setting in this chapter :)

* * *

 

 

Malfoy,

I don’t know if this is some sort of test or something, but I’m ready for your next letter… Where do you want me to visit next? I promise I won’t hound you to meet me.

I’m along for the ride, whatever that means.

Harry

 

* * *

 

  
Potter,

Yes, the two dozen letters you sent to me over the last three days made it very clear that you’re in this for the long haul. Frankly, I must say I’m delighted to be given the opportunity to relive my childhood by being stalked by the Boy Wonder. I dare say my prolonged absence in writing was only indicative of the time I needed to quietly process such a prestigious honour.

You may go wherever you wish. I’m not keeping you here. Just pretend I never owled you in the first place. I’m certainly trying to, but some speccy git is creating unforeseen problems in my flawless plan.

D.M

 

* * *

 

 

Hey Luna,

Hypothetically, if someone wrote you a letter saying that "the only reason they would stay in England would be because of you”, and that they “wish they’d been brave enough to talk to you earlier”, and then left the country, and then (after you followed them to France) told you to piss off and go home, which part would you believe? Hypothetically.

Love, Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Dearest Harry,

I often find that humans are contradictory, nonsensical creatures, and both parts of Draco’s mood are likely true. If you stay, you will be pushing on a boundary that might affect his happiness and well-being. If you leave, you might deprive him of what he truly wants and needs.

Might I suggest respecting his boundaries whilst trying to think of an incentive for him to slowly, in his own time, let them down?

Love, Luna

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Luna,

Right, bribery. Great idea. You’re the best.

Love, Harry

 

* * *

 

Harry,

You giant, insufferable twat. Luna tells me you’re going to bribe Draco Malfoy into letting you stay and follow him around France. Firstly—ew. Secondly, do you really, truly think that Luna— _Luna—_ suggested you bribe someone?

The pointy git is actually opening up to you, by the sound of it. Merlin knows why, but if you want to make sure he doesn’t regret it and send you packing, you need to reciprocate.

Ginny

 

* * *

 

Hey Ginny,

Right. Sorry. Right. I’ll get on that.

Harry

P.S. Wait, I did, though. I told him all about Mrs Figg. Isn’t that enough?

P.P.S. Did you want some perfume too?

 

* * *

 

 

Harry,

You told me once that Mrs Figg smelled like boiled cabbages. Curiously enough, that’s exactly what your head smells like right now. You giant cabbagehead.

(No, it’s not enough.)

(Yes, I’d love some rose perfume, please.)

Ginny

 

* * *

 

Malfoy,

So, I haven’t left France yet, but don’t worry, I’m not going to harass you or anything. I just wanted to send you a letter. As in, for me. I wanted to send you a letter for me. Not for you. I’m not making sense.

I’m not trying to tell you what to do, is what I’m saying. And if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.

Did you know that Hogwarts was the first place that ever felt like a real home to me? Every summer, I had to come back to my aunt and uncle’s house, and it was like going back into a cage. There were actually bars on the windows at one point.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this.

Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Potter,

That was… Honestly, I don’t know where to begin. If you were trying to convince me to open up to you again by opening up to me first, then, it was… well, truthfully, it was pathetic. I’m not here to tell you how to live your life, but if you want to be vulnerable with someone, Potter, you have to actually be vulnerable.  I don’t know who you’ve told that story to, but I can practically hear how many times you’ve said those words. They don’t mean anything to you, and neither does the act of sharing them with me.

You don’t owe me your vulnerability, Potter, and I don’t owe you mine.

D.M.

 

* * *

 

 

Ron,

Has Hermione ever asked you to be vulnerable with her? What did you do?

Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Harry,

I know that Hermione says I’ve got the emotional range of a teaspoon or whatever, but honestly, have you met her? She Obliviated her parents and sent them to Australia! Don’t get me wrong: I love her to bits, and that was definitely the right thing to do. But… I couldn’t have done it.

She doesn’t know how to be vulnerable, mate. Honestly, sometimes I don’t think she _has_ any vulnerabilities—but don’t tell her I said that!

I used to talk to Charlie a lot, though, when I was younger. It was kind of shit, being the youngest bloke of six, you know? I’d get really mad over things, and there was no way to let it out because Fred and George would just laugh at me, Percy wouldn’t listen, and Bill wasn’t there. Mum and Dad never had any time for it either—not because they didn’t care. Just because there was no time. So, I’d talk to Charlie, and he helped me figure out how to say things that I didn’t know how to say or didn’t want to say (at first). Because he’d just listen.

I may be a bit clueless when it comes to other people, sometimes, but I do know that. It’s really just about being honest, mate. Not just out loud, but to yourself—for the parts inside that hurt too much to admit.

Ron

 

* * *

 

 

Ron,

Shit… yeah, okay. That’s actually really great.

Thanks, Ron.

Harry

P.S. do… do you want some perfume?

 

* * *

 

 

What?

 

* * *

 

 

Never mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Malfoy,

If you want it to be, this will be my last letter. I don’t know what’s going on with you—why you’ve left England, or why you’re so hot and cold all of a sudden. Actually, it’s not really all of a sudden, I suppose… Anyway. I don’t know what’s happening or why I’m involved, but I do know why I haven’t left yet.

I told you that my home always felt like a cage. I didn’t tell you that when the war was over, the cage grew bigger. I don’t mean that it became easier to move around in or easier to ignore; I mean that the cage is everywhere. I can’t walk outside without feeling the walls closing in. I can’t talk to someone without worrying that they’re planning something against me, or that they’re not who they say they are. I can’t do anything without thinking, in the back of my mind, that somehow, _somehow_ , my choices don’t matter and my fate was laid out before I was born and that no matter what I do, I’m about to die.

You can imagine how Ron and Hermione would react to that. It’s wonderful to have friends, but there are some things you just can’t tell them.

When you told me you were leaving for France—getting up and going, just like that—it was the first time I had ever imagined such a thing. Just leaving. For a split second, I think I saw the cage door open up.

Harry

 

* * *

 

 

Potter,

If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you were drunk when you wrote that. Sadly, I have a little too much familiarity with drunken letter-writing; you didn’t spill your ink nearly enough. I’ll have to assume your words are true.

I know something about cages, too; my father liked to keep me in one. I can only recall one time where I ever escaped. I ran from our inner-city apartment all the way to the steps of the big cube at La Défense and watched the sun rise. I think it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. If sitting in that window with Pattenrond was what Heaven feels like, watching the sun rise that morning was what it felt to truly be alive.

D.M.

 

* * *

 

You’re right, Malfoy. It was beautiful.

Harry

**Author's Note:**

> I have never been to France... I'm picking locations from google maps XD If you have any memorable places in France, let me know! I can use them in the next chapters :)
> 
> Pattenrond is apparently Crookshanks' name in the French translations, so I couldn't resist. Noirot came up on a list of cute French names for cats, but I couldn't translate it so I'm guessing it's an onomatopoeic or cutesy variant of noir? Perhaps? If it's something bad, please let me know so I can change it haha


End file.
